h y p o c r i t e .

An always growing list of my favorite people: Cara Delevingne

The question, What would you learn?, echoed through Fleurette’s mind. Had this truly been the day that Cricket Calhoun was asking Fleurette for her advice. “To be frank, I wouldn’t want to learn anything. I would travel around the world searching for eligible wealthy men and women to marry. So, when they do croak, I inherit everything they have and I become a self made billionaire.” Keeping her tone serious, Fleur threw her glance towards the brunette and broke out in a laugh. “I’m only joking.” No she wasn’t.

“Darling. You won Miss America, you’re beautiful and clever. How could you ever become boring?”.

Then he froze, arm hanging in the air with no aim or purpose. Sweetheart? That was unexpected. He could swear she looked pissed just a fraction of a second ago (which was totally understandable). “Uh—” the petname had caught him so off guard it was messing with his vocal abilities now. 

A hard shake of the head got Oliver’s mind back on track (he hoped). “S-sure. Sorry.” Call him crazy, but people usually didn’t look so pleased when they were knocked down to the floor. Was he becoming more handsome? A far fetched idea, but maybe a possible one. Why else would she be smiling like that? “Your—” He looked at said bum before he could help it. A+, if he had to rate it. “Nah. Looks good.”

When he finally did help her stand on her own feet, a tender smile framed her face. Tender to the wandering eye, but deep down inside only she knew its true nature. “I’m starting to think that’s true. You’re not the first person to say so, but thank you. A compliment goes a long way.” Of course, her butt looked good.

“I’m Fleurette, by the way.”

“Not if I report you first—don’t play this game with me,” hewagged his finger. “I need you to pinky promise that you’ll never considerbanging another student in the supply closet, and if anybody suggests doing itI need you to put the fear of God in them because I don’t appreciate people hooking up where I keep the cleaning supplies.”

The last thing Fleurette wanted to was to get in trouble. At least trouble that lurked around the staff members. She couldn’t afford to have a detention or worse. “I’ll pinky promise and I’ll even let you in on a little secret. Rumour has it, that the supply closest on the third floor is the teacher’s hotspot…I suppose you can figure out the rest.”

Send an emoji to learn how good/bad my muse is at that particular skill!

💋 — kissing

💄 — makeup

👾 — video games

🎵 — singing

💃 — dancing

🎹 — playing an instrument

🌷 — taking care of living things

🌲 — surviving in the wilderness

👊 — fighting

😇 — following rules

🍳 — cooking

🍼 — taking care of children

🎁 — giving presents to others

🎉 — hosting parties

💌 — romance/flirting

🎨 — art

🍀 — luck

⚽️  — sports

🏊 — swimming

🚗 — driving

🔮 — magic

🔎 — investigating

🔫 — long range weapons

💣 — explosives

🔪 — melee weapons

🔬 — scientific pursuits

🚿 — hygiene

💰 — finance

🌍 — knowledge of the world

👻 — communing with the paranormal

📚 — reading

🔧 — engineering/mechanics

⌛️ — time management

📥 — organization

🍺 — alcohol tolerance

🚴 — riding a bike

🎭 — performance art/acting

⚓️ — sailing

Master? He wouldn’t go that far. Ashe has only been on this earth for 22 years. That’s hardly enough time to master anything, let alone sex. Quite the lover? Now, that one was possible. Maybe he’s tooting his own horn with that thought, though. He wasn’t going around handing out post coitus questionnaires, so there’s no way he could really know for sure. He almost scoffs at the formality of the words. Lovers. Lovemaking. They were so overly polite that they were almost cringeworthy.

“Well, it’s not impossible. I mean, I did everything except lovemaking in the common area and the stairwell—” Because he’s a GENTLEMAN with STANDARDS. “—And don’t get any ideas either. Those were locker room stories since I’m not one to, uh, watch people fuck,” he says, the word punctuated by a head nod. Funny how refreshing it felt to say now that lover after lover left her lips. The more vulgar things seemed to roll of his tongue a hell of a lot better.

“—I’m not that kinky anyways.”

The word lovemaking rings in her ears, and surprisingly it’s not coming from her mouth. It’s coming from his. Though, the way he pronounces, or at least she assumes it to be a foreign word for him to use. “Everything?”. The bewildered look that framed her face had disappeared. Now, a stunned gaze was the mask she had on. Fleurette was not only one hell of a singer, but one hell of an actress.

“When I said you were quite the lover — I was teasing. I suppose, not only was I wrong, but I owe you an apology. It turns out you are quite the lover.” By her book she was never wrong. “If you’re not one to watch people fu — make love, then what about porn? I mean surely, you couldn’t have learned everything just by… experience.” Fleur knew that very soon she would have to back off, or boundaries would be broken. 

“Have you been here long?” She ended up asking after a short silence, the uncomfortable feeling in her chest still present. 

She paused, allowing herself to catch a breath. “The Truman show is a comedy and Elswood is a comedy act. The movie and the school parallel itself so unseeingly. Anya Elswood watches over our every move, observing our perfections and flaws.” Fleur curses herself in the back of her head, for uttering Anya Elwood’s name in this conversation. No, Fleurette doesn’t fear her, but she fears of what Anya can do to her. “Not only is this forest an illusion, but our lives are now a comedy act. Except the whole world isn’t watching.” Or, maybe they were. 

“A year.” She saids proudly with a her best faux smile. “How about you, darling? You seem new… I’m guessing you’ve been here, oh, a few days…weeks or months?”.

Reaching for the doorknob of the art room, she let herself fling open the door to see a familiar girl. Her name hadn’t slipped her mind like most people’s name at Elswood. Haneul.

“So, I’ve noticed. I expect art students to be messy, but never this messy.”

Now, here is one of the issues with being 6′3 — if you didn’t pay attention, you could easily miss the people walking right in front of you and bump into them hard enough to make them trip. “Shit,” he mumbled and reached to steady the victim of his inadvertence. “My bad, my bad. You good?”

Titling her head back, she saw a familiar boy. Fleur had seen him in at least one of her classes before, but again, she must of not cared that much about him to remember his name. Extending her arm out towards him, she gestured for him to help her get up. Her mind screamed for her to say, Tête de noeud, but instead she started her sentence with “Sweetheart.” Good play.

“I’ll be more than alright, once you help me off the ground.” Letting a coy smile appear on her face, a thought crept up on her mind. Maybe, he could be useful to her after all. “Well, I may be alright, but my bum may not be.”

Stumbling upon a brunette, she allowed herself to make eye contact with her and gave her nod of acknowledgement. Fleur had opened her mouth to speak, but she was beaten to it. “I suppose it’s their way of mocking us and keeping us in our place.” She paused, before allowing herself to continue. “We can admire it from a distance, and dream of what the end of the forest holds once we reach the end. There’s no escape. The end of the forest is just merely an illusion.”

Fleurette had gone through her little speech in her mind, before deciding it was terribly cheesy. “That was a little to sentimental, even for my taste. I do apologize.”